


Better than the Alternative

by Anonymous



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Forced Vomiting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Poison, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 16:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13528119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "One more," he lies for not the first time, forcing his gloved hand into her mouth before Sombra can resist.





	Better than the Alternative

"Gabe," Sombra pleads, voice hoarse and throat stinging. He's got most of her hair fisted in one hand, his other arm pinning her to his front as if he doesn't trust Sombra not to faceplant against the cold porcelain if left to her own devices. 

"One more," he lies for not the first time, forcing his gloved hand into her mouth before Sombra can resist.

It's not as if she _could_ \- everything's hazy and spinning and hurts so damn bad it's paralyzing - but he's not gentle about shoving his fingers into the back of her throat either. Sombra coughs, then gags, and then her stomach is contracting miserably and Reaper pulls his hand back just in time for her to throw up again.

She splutters and gasps, and heaves her guts up until her muscles finally stop spasming and Reaper is holding the glass of water to her lips. Her head is pounding. She might be crying a little bit.

"Drink."

Sombra tries to shake her head, but Reaper tightens his grip on her hair and refuses to let her. He tips the glass until she's forced to swallow - water dribbling out of the corners of her mouth and all down her front; still choking. She shivers in his arms. Moans pitifully when he's finished forcing water on her. She already knows what's coming. Even after the water, all she can taste is bile. "Please," she mumbles half-deliriously.

"Stay with me, Sombra."

A wave of vertigo crashes over her and she vomits without his help this time. If it weren't for Reaper holding her in place, she'd crumple like a puppet with her strings cut.

"No more," she moans, not sure whether to let her head fall forward, or back against Reaper's chest, "please."

It's too dizzying to shut her eyes, but she stares up at nothing, trying to find a single piece of the wall that isn't swimming. Reaper cups her throat and jaw in his hand, and makes Sombra's mind up for her when he guides her head back to rest on his shoulder. "Better than the alternative," he says with a deep rumble that seeps all the way down to Sombra's bones.

"You sure?" Sombra rasps out, long before she realizes that of all people, he would know. 

"Poison is a painful way to die," Reaper says, and doesn't elaborate further. Though, given the circumstance, he might not need to. His fingertips press into the corners of her mouth again.

The leather of his gloves is somehow still soft, and Sombra forgets for a moment to fight him. Then it's too late. She whines at the press of his fingers on her tongue, filling her mouth - dimly considers biting down - and then the unforgiving punch of pressure at the back of her throat stops Sombra dead. Her chest seizes, stomach giving a painful lurch.

"Last one," Reaper lies.


End file.
